


Not In Our Stars

by BiscuitsForPotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, Department of Mysteries, F/M, Falling In Love, Hidden Relationship, Outer Space, Post-Hogwarts, Secret Relationship, Theodore Nott needs a hug, Unspeakable Hermione Granger, unhappily ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiscuitsForPotter/pseuds/BiscuitsForPotter
Summary: Hermione has always been fascinated with the secrets of the stars, and now, as an Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries, it's her job to help unlock those secrets. Her co-researcher, Theodore Nott, is both brilliant and brooding, and Hermione can't help but to be drawn to him. Written for Ravens Light for DFW Secret Santa 2019.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott
Comments: 21
Kudos: 94
Collections: Dumpster Fire SS 2019





	Not In Our Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ravenslight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenslight/gifts).



> I am trembling to be posting my first Theomione piece! This was written for Ravens Light for our Secret Santa fic exchange for DFW. One of her ship requests was Theomione, and her requested tropes were 'secret relationship' and 'unhappily ever after.' 
> 
> I hope I've done it justice and I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Shoutout to the amazing Alpha/Beta work by MsMerlin and GracefulLioness!

When Hermione was a little girl, her father often took her stargazing. They went camping in sparse areas far from any light pollution, and would lie on a soft well-worn brown blanket late into the night, looking up into the infinite sky. He told her stories about the constellations, how the stars came to grace the skies, hand placed by Zeus. And when he ran out of legends to tell, they would make up new ones together, adding to the mythos that littered the sky.

“How do you know all this?” She would ask, snuggling into his side. “I want to know as much as you do about all this stuff when I grow up.”

Dad would wrap his arm around her shoulders and draw her as close as possible.

_"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,_   
_But in ourselves, that we are underlings."_

He spoke the words to the heavens, letting them float into the vast summer sky like a balloon released as a wish.

Hermione blinked upward, as though she could see them disappear higher and higher. After a moment, she turned her head to face him, her curls falling lightly over her cheeks. “What does that mean, Dad?”

Dad chuckled. “It means that if you want to know about something or do something, my darling star girl, then you must be the one to take charge.” He paused for a moment, shifting his gaze downward. In his dark eyes, Hermione saw all the twinklings of the universe reflected. “Do you understand?” Dad asked after a moment, his lips lifting in just the hint of a soft smile.

“I think so,” Hermione answered, burrowing deeper into the safety of her father’s arms. Truthfully, she didn’t understand. Not really. The world, the stars—it was a lot for an eight year-old to take in.

But as her eyes began to droop, she somehow got the sense that the night sky that stretched before her was important—far more important than she could possibly know.

~*~*~*~

“Morning,” Hermione yawned between sips of coffee, her black pumps clicking on the stone floor.

“Good morning, Unspeakable Granger,” replied her coworker with the tip of his hat.

Hermione shifted the files in her left arm, fingertips grazing the rough edges of parchment within. She inhaled deeply, savouring the rich scent of her morning brew mixed with the earthy smell of parchment. It was like coming home. That’s what work had become in recent years—a refuge from the mess outside of the small room where she worked deep in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic.

If anyone had told her ten years ago that the Department of Mysteries, of all places, would become her second home, she would have branded them criminally insane. Her body still carried the scars she had acquired in these very halls, splashed across her torso like the Jackson Pollock painting she had seen in the Museum of Modern Art during her recent visit to New York.

But the time in which she had earned those battle scars felt like another lifetime. Nearly ten years had passed between then and now. The Hermione Granger who strode through the Department of Mysteries today was a far cry from the sixteen year old soon-to-be war hero that infiltrated this space. No longer doe-eyed and pining after Ron Weasley, she was a woman who wasn’t afraid to go after what and who she wanted.

After all, it’s what her father had told her to do.

Hermione’s chest caught for a moment as her thoughts drifted to her dad. His memories had never returned after the war. He and Mum were still in Australia, puttering around a home that would never contain a shred of evidence that they had a daughter out there, somewhere. She liked to think that Dad would be proud of her. She worked among the stars, after all. Pursing her lips and purposely pulling her shoulders back so that she might hide her moment of melancholy, Hermione stepped through the black door at the end of the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries.

If there was one place within this labyrinth of offices and laboratories that required one to put distractions aside, this was it. She couldn’t afford to let her emotions get the best of her at work. After all, it was her job to unlock the secrets of the universe, and she couldn’t very well do that if her mind was over fifteen thousand kilometers away.

Hermione entered the familiar circular room lined with doors. As the main door behind her closed with a final sort of snap, her world began to spin as the DoM foyer performed its usual ritual. Her wand moved in the complicated flourish almost mindlessly, performing the modified freezing charm for what felt like the thousandth time. Around her the room stilled. Then, holding her badge above her head, flashing it at the ceiling, two doors opened. The one to her left led to the DoM offices. They weren’t anything special—just a series of cubicles with a sparse number of photo frames and overflowing inboxes. However, the door right in front of her was where the real intrigue of her job lay, in more ways than one.

A smile settling on her face, Hermione strode forward into the Space Chamber.

From the moment she entered, she felt lighter. The anti-gravity charm lifted her feet off the ground so she levitated just above the stone floor. She was filled with a swooping sensation in her stomach, as though she were flying down a hill on a roller coaster. All the hairs on her arms stood on end.

Just beyond the entrance, on the far side of a miniature version of Mars, her coworker came into view as she moved deeper into the chamber. Hermione’s stomach suddenly filled with another sort of swooping sensation.

“Good morning, Unspeakable Granger,” he spoke in a neutral tone, the red glow of the planet in his hands reflecting off of his pale face.

“Morning,” she called, setting her files down on the table that was always situated near the door. Hermione adjusted her wand in her grip and gave it a sharp sweep. Instantly, the darkness in the room gave way to a series of bright lights that hung from a vaulted ceiling above their heads. Another wave of her wand, and the anti-gravity charm around her faded, allowing her feet to land on solid ground.

The man across the room closed his eyes in temporary discomfort from the sudden change of light, before he blinked.

“You could give me some warning, you know,” he chided, releasing Mars back into the air. His handsome face was revealed from behind the miniature planet, and he offered a half-smile.

“Sorry,” Hermione grimaced.

“It’s all right.” Her coworker shrugged. “I needed your opinion before I continued, anyway.”

“You, Unspeakable Nott, needed my opinion?” Hermione’s face split into a grin as Theo rolled his eyes at her reaction. “I’m shocked, truly.”

“Just get over here before I change my mind, will you?”

Hermione stepped across the Space Chamber, where Theo held a clipboard in his long-fingered hands. As she reached his side, he began to launch into a lengthy explanation about the position of Mars in the coming months. Hermione breathed in Theo’s spicy scent, unable to help herself due to their closeness. Just a hint of him was enough to make her weak in the knees, though she would never admit it.

She had no idea whether Theo was aware of her infatuation with him. It was highly unlikely, considering the former Slytherin was so focused on work and so helplessly antisocial that she wasn’t sure how much human contact he actually had outside of their little planetarium. Theo always kept to himself outside of the Space Chamber—she couldn’t even remember a single occurrence of seeing him with others since they began working together. He greeted their superiors and coworkers with curt nods and succinct words as he hurried through the halls. Never anything more.

But in here, with her, he was like a different person.

Theo would talk with her for hours about their work, about the mysteries of space—the stars, the endless black beyond their world, and the extent that their magic could affect the universe’s grand design. He got excited whenever their work led them to ponder the deeper questions that life had to offer, his normally solemn dark eyes lighting up and his whole demeanor shifting. Together, the two of them verbally sparred about their research and the meaning of it all.

Hermione hummed contentedly on this particular morning as Theo posited his proposition for the work they could be doing, given Mars’ shifting position. None of her other friends had ever been able to give her this level of intellectual stimulation. She had always felt as though she was two steps ahead of them. Even having a chat with Ron and Harry sometimes seemed like a chore. Not that she was even _allowed_ to talk to them about her job, but if she could, she doubted they’d be able to keep up, let alone be interested. The one time she tried to talk to Ron about the size of the universe, he’d ended up looking rather green afterward. Though he never asked her outright, she assumed he’d rather not think about things quite that daunting.

Hermione’s friendship with Harry and Ron wasn’t based on their intellect. It never had been, and that was perfectly fine with her. She loved them, after all. But what she had with Theo was different. He was always able to keep up and he never minded debating the darker parts of those bigger questions they were trying to answer. Having someone like Theo in her life made her realise just how much she craved that type of stimulation.

“Why do you think so many people have such an aversion to discussing what’s out there? I mean, it’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Hermione had complained over lunch in their neighbouring cubicles only a year after they started working together.

At the start of their working relationship, Theo had still been an acquaintance in her book—just another person who happened to attend Hogwarts during her time there. Other than his parentage and his past association with Malfoy, she honestly didn’t remember much about him. He could have been horrible. Mean-spirited. Cruel. But to Hermione’s surprise, he turned out to be everything she wasn’t expecting: cautious, inquisitive, and as kind as one could be without saying much.

Though Hermione warmed up to Theo with relative ease, it had taken a long time for Theo to break free of his brooding mask. Being forced to spend all their time at the Ministry in each other’s company probably had to do something with it. And as is the case so often when faced with long stretches of time with another person, cracks began to appear in Theo’s mask.

And what Hermione saw beneath was beautiful. He wasn't just smart. He was brilliant. He kept up with her wandering thoughts, pushed her to explore the questions that kept her up at night, and encouraged her through the rough bits. He never acted smug about it either, never once putting her down for knowledge that would be second hand to someone born into the wizarding world, but rather explaining with something that could only be described as kindness to help get her up to speed. All of these things, coupled with his rather handsome features, made it hard to deny the butterflies that burst to life whenever she was fortunate enough to earn a smile from him.

Theo had just shrugged at her question. “It makes people feel small, thinking about all that.” He gestured in the general direction of the Space Chamber. “People like to feel like they matter, and our research tells us just that—they don’t matter. Not really, anyway.”

Hermione frowned at his answer. “I see what you’re saying, but I hardly agree with you that our research tells us that people don’t matter.”

“Unspeakable Granger—”

“Hermione,” she interrupted in an exasperated tone. “For the last time, Theo, call me Hermione. We’ve been working together for nearly a year.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Fine. _Hermione_ —” her name fell off his tongue syllable by syllable, as though it was particularly tricky. “—the work we do is about trying to understand how our magic can affect the universe, and how it affects us. And as far as I can tell, the first way pretty much doesn’t exist at all. _We_ are the ones affected. We are the ones who are at the mercy of the vastness of it all.”

Hermione blanched. “That doesn’t mean we don’t matter,” she chided. “It just means that what we have here in our own world is incredibly precious.”

She watched as Theo stared at her, one eyebrow cocked upward, as though she had grown a set of antlers atop her head in the last two seconds. After a moment, he shook his head and took a bite of his meat pasty.

“Whatever you say, _Hermione_.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Hermione blurted out the question she had tried to bite back.

“Do _you_ think that we don’t matter?”

Theo swallowed his bite of pasty. He dabbed at his mouth with a paper napkin.

“I figure I can’t feel more insignificant than I already do.”

Before Hermione had time to process what he’d said, Theo pushed his hands against his knees to stand up. He pushed his chair in and strode from the office, leaving Hermione with mouthful of ham sandwich.

Theo got like that sometimes. Dark. Brooding. Depressed. Only work seemed to bring him happiness—or at the very least, a lack of misery.

It was on that level that Hermione related most fundamentally to Theodore Nott.

Work had saved her after the war. It saved her from falling into despair at all she had lost. Her parents. Her friends. Eventually, her relationship with Ron. Yes, her work had always been the salvation that kept her putting one foot in front of the other until she found she could smile again.

It was evident that Theo was still fighting that battle.

What started out as pity toward him—she was sure that was how it started,quickly morphed into something that made her heart beat erratically whenever she was near him. Which was all the time.

Hermione was sure that lingering touches on the shoulder of his dark robes or the occasional friendly hug she offered up would give away her secret.

But Theo never said anything… never indicated that her actions were affecting him. Hermione reasoned that his smiles were merely friendly, and that his willingness to talk to her was a product of their nearly three years spent together discussing the secrets of the universe.

She kept her feelings tucked inside, not wanting to jeopardize their easy dynamic or their hard work.

That’s why Hermione stood in the Space Chamber, listening to him go on and on about how Mars and Neptune were going to create the perfect conditions for the creation of prophecies, and that they needed to keep their ear to the ground.

Theo gesticulated wildly as he spoke, confidence rising in his voice. His face, so often pale and sorrowful, was flushed with excitement, his smile dazzling as he lost himself in the one thing he seemed passionate about. His body, too, drew closer to Hermione’s as he spoke, as if a step in her direction was bringing him closer to the truth. One step in her direction would bring his body flush against hers.

Hermione wanted to freeze time so she could keep Theo like this: passionate, warm, and close enough to touch. If she could find some way to always keep him this open and excited, she would do it in a heartbeat. This was the Theo she loved to see—the one who made her heart thump wildly against her ribs. Her heart was beating like that now, threatening to reveal her secret with every inch Theo drew closer.

But their relationship was never meant to be simple.

At that moment, the door to the Space Chamber swung open, revealing the jovial, greying features of their fellow Unspeakables, Dillwyn.

Hermione hardly had time to whip her head from the door and back before she noticed that Theo had already schooled his features.

The senior unspeakable spoke through his thick, dark beard.

“Unspeakables Granger and Nott. Not spacing out again, are we?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, fighting the upturn of her lips. “What can we do for you, Unspeakable Dillwyn?”

It turned out that their fellow Unspeakable wanted to inform them about a team dinner at The Leaky Cauldron next week. As Dillwyn spoke, Hermione shot glances at Theo, who had barely moved a muscle since their coworker entered the room.

“I’ll be there,” Hermione replied with a smile when Dillwyn finished giving the details. “Sounds fun. Unspeakable Nott?”

She turned to face Theo, though she already knew there was no chance he would go to such a social event.

“No thank you,” he answered curtly.

Dillwyn clapped his hands together, pursing his lips. “Right, then. I’ll see you two around.”

When the door to the Space Chamber closed and Dillwyn’s footsteps died away, Hermione sighed. Theo had released Mars to float back toward the ceiling and was scribbling something down on a clipboard.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” Theo looked up, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Shut down. Isolate yourself.” When Theo’s eyes narrowed in what Hermione hoped was confusion, she clarified. “What I mean is… well—you’re just so lively when we work in here together. Or when it’s just the two of us in the office. You’re passionate and open and brilliant, really.”

As the words tumbled from her mouth, she saw a flush rise in Theo’s cheeks. In response, her own face grew warm.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m worried that you’re pushing everyone else away. There’s more to our job—more to our world—than just me.”

Hermione half expected Theo to get angry or worse, withdraw from her.

Instead, he chuckled.

“Of course there’s more to our job than just you. I mean, look up.” He pointed at the ceiling, where representations of millions of stars shone high above their heads. “That’s a pretty narcissistic thing to say, Hermione.”

She scoffed, placing her hands on her hips. “You’ve completely missed the point, Theo.”

“I’m only joking.” Theo held his hands out, as if trying to stop her from panicking. He then shoved them in his pockets and looked down. When he spoke, it was in a barely audible whisper. “There isn’t any more than that to me. You and me, together in this room, discovering the secrets of the universe. That’s what I want.”

Hermione felt her chest expand with a hopeful breath. “Theo?”

“And you’re the brilliant one.” Theo looked up to the stars as he spoke this last assertion.

“Maybe we’re both brilliant,” Hermione suggested.

Theo shifted his gaze again. This time, it landed right on her.

Hermione’s heart sped up. The corner of Theo’s mouth twitched.

“Maybe.”

The two of them stood on a precipice, balanced on the edge of this significant moment. One further step and they would land among the stars that filled the void around them. And she had no idea if Theo even saw it as clearly as she did, but right now, in this moment, more than any other moment of their three years working together, she wanted to tell him.

“I like you, Theo.”

Hermione felt bold for speaking her heart so plainly, but there was no taking her words back now.

Theo licked his lips. For half a second, Hermione thought she saw a hopeful spark in his eyes. It was short-lived, though, because the very next second, those same eyes grew dark as they stared directly into hers.

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, you can’t like me.”

“And why can’t I?”

Theo’s lips twitched as though words were trying to escape against his will. He frowned and looked back at the ground. “It’s just not a good idea.”

“That’s not a real answer,” Hermione protested, folding her arms. Theo was being ridiculous. Not only that, but with each passing second, she could feel her heart freefalling further and further into her stomach. “You’ll have to tell me why it’s not a good idea to like you, because frankly, I don’t believe you.”

“It just isn’t, okay?” he growled. His fingers gripped the clipboard tightly.

“Why not? You’re kind, you’re thoughtful, and you’re damn smart, and I—”

“I’m not any of those things!” Theo roared, his head snapping up. “I’m not bloody thoughtful or kind or any of that rot. I’m the son of a dementor-kissed Death Eater. I come from generations of hateful wizards. You want to know why I isolate myself? Why I push everyone away? It’s because everything I touch, I poison. It always sours. If I were to go to that department dinner, someone in that pub would make a comment or accusation. My presence would ruin the entire night.”

Theo’s chest heaved as he spoke. A vein in his forehead began to pulse. He was already so lost in his self-loathing that Hermione didn’t think he noticed when she took a step toward him. It was only when she grasped his hand, that he seemed to come down from his anger.

“That’s a pretty narcissistic thing to say, Theo,” she said, parroting his words from just minutes ago. “The entire night? Just you would ruin it? I’m pretty sure Dillwyn’s horrible jokes could easily ruin it first.”

Theo’s jaw twitched in the ghost of a smile, but when he spoke again, Hermione heard an aching sadness in his words.

“That’s why you can’t like me, Hermione. I’m poison. I… I’m never going to be seen as the kind of man who can just live a normal life. I’m always going to be hated, and I’ve found it’s better to keep to myself than feel things for people that I shouldn’t.”

Theo swallowed, his voice thick as though he were trying to repress some strong emotion. He drew his hand from hers.

“And what do you feel for me?”

It was a simple enough question, one that had been spoken beneath the sky countless times in human history. Yet this time, like every time, it felt new and big and terribly frightening. Hermione watched Theo as he swallowed, clearly trying to gather his courage.

“Isn’t it obvious, Hermione? I’m in love with you.”

Hermione felt her mouth fall open slightly. She licked her lips. In her wildest dreams, she never imagined that he really—that he _actually_ —

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it.” Theo interrupted her jarred thoughts before she had a chance to reply. “There’s no way it would ever work. Not with who we both are.”

His tone was cool as he spoke. Hermione could feel him closing himself off from her, the edges of his true self curling inward with each word. Her brain raced, trying to find something— anything to pull him back to her.

She looked up. Stars twinkled high above her head, each of them whispering their secrets into the universe.

Hermione smiled at them.

_"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,_   
_But in ourselves, that we are underlings."_

She spoke the words into the heavens, letting them float into the cavernous Space Chamber like her father did all those years ago.

When she was met with silence, she filled the space between them.

“It isn’t your fate to be loathed and left behind, Theodore Nott. If what you say is true—that you love me—then only we can determine if we’re capable of making this work.

Hermione stepped forward and brushed her lips against his.

Their kiss only lasted a moment. When she pulled back Theo’s eyes met her own. She saw elation and hope in their depths, yes. But mostly she saw fear.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, suppressing the urge to brush her fingertips across his cheek. “I’d like to see where this goes, yeah?”

Theo nodded.

~*~*~*~

Falling in love with Theo was like jumping off a diving board into the deep end of a swimming pool. It happened so suddenly and submerged Hermione so completely that she hardly had time to think before her heart rested entirely in his long-fingered hands.

Theo had finally relented to give a relationship between them a shot, but only if she agreed to keep their relationship a secret. Hermione had protested for days.

“I want to be with you, Theo. I don’t give two flying hippogriffs what anyone might say about us. You're not your father—you're a better man and anyone who thinks otherwise is daft and doesn't deserve my friendship.” She pleaded her case again and again, but Theo wouldn’t budge.

In the end, she gave up her protest—because truthfully all the mattered was being with him. She couldn't deny the effect he had on her, how her heart would speed whenever he drew near, or how her belly swooped when he smiled.

Theo was surprisingly affectionate. When it was just the two of them—working in tandem in the Space Chamber, sharing an evening stroll through a Muggle park, cuddling in the Nott family library—Theo never hesitated to capture her lips and to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. He held her close and laced his fingers with hers.

The feeling of his soft skin on hers quickly became her drug that Hermione couldn’t get enough of. Chaste kisses given in passing turned heated quickly, and within weeks, Hermione found herself spending most of her nights tucked tightly against Theo’s long, lean form. He worshipped her body in ways that made her want to sing. All the insecurities that plagued her about her wide hips and her wild hair disappeared when he stared down at her, spread for him on his dark bedsheets. And the mural of scars that littered her body? Theo kissed every inch of them.

“So beautiful,” he murmured into the skin below her breasts. “They’re like the milky way.” Theo trailed kisses up her torso and across her pulse point until he hovered just above her lips. “You’re covered in stars, my darling. My star girl.”

As Theo held her after, Hermione pressed a soft kiss to his sweaty temple. She inhaled the spicy essence that clung to his skin, savoring the warmth that bloomed in her chest at the familiar scent. The feeling of his arms around her left her feeling complete—whole.

She was helplessly in love with Theo Nott.

Hermione Granger was happy.

And yet.

She had a whole life outside of their relationship that Theo was not part of. Where he existed in her life, her friends did not. He didn't get to see—to know the Hermione she was beside Ron and Harry. He didn't get to see the way she would laugh endlessly at Ginny’s jokes, or snuggle Bill and Fleur's babies. And in turn, they didn't get to see how utterly happy she was with him. It was like living two lives—one where they didn't conflict with one another, but rather just filled separate places inside her heart she so desperately wanted to weld together.

Hermione wanted to shout to the heavens that she was in love. She wanted to bring Theo with her when she met Ron, Harry, and Ginny for drinks on Fridays after work; she wanted to go shopping with him hand-in-hand as they strolled through Diagon Alley. Hell, she wanted to be able to press kisses on his cheek during their lunch break in the Ministry canteen.

Any time she suggested that they bring their relationship out of the shadows, Theo would go pale and shake his head.

“No,” he said simply.

“But—”

“No.”

Theo never explained himself and never changed his mind. If she pushed too hard, he would retreat back into himself.

They were almost caught on several occasions. Once they ran into Neville and Dean in the Muggle park where they liked to take walks. Their hands fell lamely to their sides as the two young men approached. Theo hung back as Hermione made small talk with her old Gryffindor classmates. Dean was still the energetic bloke she remembered from their younger years, but Neville spent the majority of the conversation looking bashfully at her in a manner she couldn’t quite place.

Later that night, in the confined safety of her bookshelf-lined bedroom, far away from prying eyes, Theo claimed her body three times—making sure to leave marks across her shoulders that would claim her as his own… even if no one were to see them.

Hermione prided herself in staying professional at work. The Space Chamber was no place to muck about or get lost in unbridled passion. She and Theo focused on their job from nine to five each day as they watched the paths of the planets and the fates of the stars, trying to glean some meaning from it all.

Sometimes, when they were in the midst of discussing the stars and their part in the vastness of the universe, Hermione couldn’t help but feel swept up in the moment. Theo was so passionate about finding answers out there, somewhere, that he occasionally seemed to lose focus of everything around him. His eyes would gloss over as he stared into their little model of the universe, and in those moments, Hermione allowed herself to truly appreciate how beautiful he was.

She loved him, heart, body, and soul.

It was on one such occasion that Hermione lost her sense of propriety entirely, surging forward to interrupt Theo by crushing her lips to his. She backed him into the desk where his clipboard sat, and it clattered to the ground, the sound echoing all across the universe.

Hermione reached for the cool metal of his belt buckle, and before Theo could object, his trousers were around his ankles and she lowered herself to her knees. It was these throaty sounds of Theo’s moans that still filled her memory in quiet moments. It had almost been perfect passion—that was, until they heard the telltale signs of heavy footsteps approaching the door to the Space Chamber.

The two of them sprang apart faster than Molly could cast Scourgify. Theo pulled up his trousers as Hermione summoned two planets from high above, hoping to hide the evidence of their arousal. She tossed Mars to Theo and kept Venus for herself. He caught the red planet just as Dillwyn threw the door open.

Looking back on that moment later that night as she laid in Theo’s arms, Hermione almost wondered if it would have been so bad to get caught. Granted, it would have been horrifically embarrassing and she would not have been able to look Dillwyn in the eye for at least a year.

But it would have been out there—their secret relationship.

It would have been like ripping off a bandage. Theo would hopefully have been able to realize that his love for her superseded any sort of self-loathing he felt. They would finally be able to hold hands in public without their fingers constantly dancing on edge at the sight of anyone vaguely familiar. Hermione would finally feel the weight lift from her tightly-gripped heart.

But more than anything, Hermione loved Theo. She loved him more than she dreaded the prospect of living a secret life with him. Theo had his reasons for keeping their relationship from everyone. She was his safe place. She was the only person he had in this vast world. Hers was a world filled with friendship and love at nearly every turn. His was mostly empty.

Perhaps that’s why she looked up at the night sky and felt so big, while he felt so small.

“How can you feel small?” Hermione asked one night as they laid on an old blue blanket she had dug out from a linen closet. The two of them were taking a weekend away in the red and gold-dusted countryside. Hermione insisted that they go see some real stars for once, and Theo had gladly complied.

“What do you mean?” Theo’s breath mingled with the cold night air, vaporizing before their eyes. “Of course I feel small. Everything we see, everything we study, it’s proof that our world is boundless. We’re nothing but specks of space dust mucking about.” He paused for a moment, and Hermione watched as he blinked up at the night sky. “I mean, I suppose we’re among the luckier specks of space dust, because we can use magic to manipulate some of that dust to our own use. But what good does that do us, really? In the long run.”

Hermione sighed as her eyes swept over so many of the constellations she had learned about from her dad. She reached up a gloved hand and began to trace them with her index finger. She paused after each one, memories of lying on a similar blanket with Dad washing over her.

_“How long does it take to get to the stars, Dad?” she had asked him once under a warm summer sky._

_“Longer than we’ll ever live to know, my darling star girl,” he had responded, turning his head to face her._

_Hermione had wrinkled her face in disbelief. “Really? Is space that big?”_

_“Oh, my dear. I think it’s bigger than we could possibly imagine.”_

_Dad had seemed to know that the very thought of something that massive was off-putting to a child. He always seemed to know what she needed. Snuggling close, he looked at her with his dark eyes. In them, Hermione saw the universe reflected. But instead of vast and terrifying, in his eyes, the stars were warm and inviting._

_“Don’t you worry, star girl,” he had said with a smile. “You’re bigger than it all.”_

“I don’t feel small at all,” said Hermione, watching her own breath float towards the stars. “Because isn’t that what we all are in the end?”

“What’s that?” Theo turned his head to face her, and in her mind’s eye, she could see her dad, all those years ago, doing the exact same thing. Her heart ached with that thought.

“Stars,” said Hermione simply. “We’re all made of stars. All those planets, all those bits of light so far away—they’re all inside of us. All of us. You, me, everyone. I look up and there’s no way that I could ever feel small. And isn’t that magic in itself?”

Though she expected Theo to say, ‘huh’ or sigh, she held on to a thread of hope that he would embrace her and agree.

But he did none of those things. Instead, Theo turned away from her, curling into himself.

Hermione sat up, turning her torso toward him. The body heat that had insulated the two of them disappeared into the night, giving way to a single shiver. “Theo?”

“Leave it, Hermione,” he whispered, still facing away from her.

“I—did I say something?”

Silence.

“Please, Theo. Don’t shut me out. I just want to understand.”

Hermione pleaded with her boyfriend, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. Theo twitched at the contact.

_“Please.”_

When Theo finally turned to face her, Hermione was struck to see pain imbedded deep his eyes. He wasn’t crying—Theo didn’t cry. But there was something so prophetically sad about the look on his face that Hermione’s heart seized in her chest.

“You have no idea, do you?”

Hermione blinked. Where had that come from? Hermione replayed her words in her head, but nothing struck her as something that would upset him. “What don’t I know?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.

Theo sighed. He opened and closed his mouth a handful of times. Rubbing his face with his palms, he looked down at the blanket. When he did speak, it seemed to be more to himself than to her. “You couldn’t get it, could you?” Bitterness bit through his voice. “You only feel those things because the world is waiting for you. Because you have people who make you feel big. You see the stars in yourself because you can.” He paused and swallowed. His eyes drifted up. “Well, I can’t.”

Hermione licked her lips, searching for words that might reassure Theo—might somehow convince him that he, too, was full of stars, and was deeply significant.

“I see them in you,” she whispered, placing her hand on his jumper-covered arm. “And I’m sure if you gave others the opportunity, they would see stars in you too.”

Theo shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

A sudden bubbling anger rose within Hermione. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt her heart rate increase, her jaw tightening at his self deprecation.

“Then what are you going to do, Theo? Shut yourself off from everyone for the rest of your life? Wallow in misery while ignoring the very real truth that you could have everything you wanted if you just believed that you’re worthy?”

Hermione found herself half-screaming these words at Theo, whose eyes had gone wide. Slowly, gradually, his surprise morphed into something venomous and vitriolic.

“What do you know about what I want?” he spat, jumping to his feet. “What could you possibly know?”

Without saying another word, Theo turned on the spot and disapparated. Hermione was left alone under the stars, the cold chill of the autumn air seeping into her bones.

~*~*~*~

Theo eventually apologized for abandoning Hermione atop that hill. He showed up on her doorstep two days later, bags under his eyes and dark stubble spread across his chin. He looked so unlike himself in his disheveled state. Though, he never formally apologized, he came to her with a small bouquet of crocuses, somehow managing to procure one of her favorite flowers in mid-October.

She debated slamming the door in his face, telling him off, but he looked nearly as broken as she felt, standing there no her doorstep with his bouquet. Instead, she invited him in.

“Just don’t push me like that,” he warned after they sat together at her kitchen table with mugs of tea in hand. “You know why we can’t—why I won’t let you be seen in public with me.”

Hermione wanted to protest, wanted to shake some sense in him. She wanted to make Theo understand that people could easily see the man she saw if he only gave them a chance.

She wanted to kiss her boyfriend in front of others and be a normal couple. She wanted some sort of hope for a future together—a future when they could be publically passionate with him about the mysteries of the universe and about each other.

As Theo absently sipped his tea, Hermione still saw the beauty in him, silhouetted in the morning sunshine that filtered through her gossamer kitchen curtains. He was beautiful, yes. But for the first time in their months together, a curl of anxiety wound its way up her throat at the sight of him.

“I’ve been invited to George and Angelina’s wedding next weekend. Everyone’s been asking me who I’ll go with.” She nibbled at a biscuit as she spoke, staring determinedly at the wooden kitchen table.

Theo sipped his tea. “Oh?”

“I haven’t said anything, if you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

The anxiety leapt higher inside her throat. She licked her lips. “People have started offering to arrange dates for me. They say it’s sad for me to go alone.”

“Well, do you think it’s sad?” Theo posited lightly.

“No, but—”

“Then go. You don’t need a date.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go.” Hermione lifted her eyes.

Theo turned to face her, eyebrows raised. “I thought I just said that—”

“As friends,” Hermione clarified. “Just as friends. We don’t even have to sneak off for a snog.” She joked, trying to get Theo to crack a smile. His face remained stony.

“I’m not going to some bloody wedding. You know that I don’t go to things like that.”

Hermione frowned. Though she tried to push it down, the anxiety she’d tried to ignore crept from her throat and into her mouth, tainting her words.

“But what about what _I_ want, Theo? What about my needs? I can’t just stay cooped up with you, isolated from the world forever. I… I want to live.”

“Then live,” Theo growled, slamming his mug onto the table so hard that tea sloshed over the rim. He stood, drawing himself to his full height all at once, and for the very first time, Hermione felt a flicker fear when she looked up at him. But he didn’t yell. He didn’t curse her or even seem angry. Instead, Hermione saw him clench his fists as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Go and live your busy, crowded life full of people who care about you. Go to the fucking wedding alone or go with someone else. I don’t bloody well care.”

Turning on his heel, he accidentally knocked over the vase that Hermione had just placed the crocuses in mere minutes ago. It smashed on the floor as Theo stormed out, sending bits of broken glass and ripped petals flying all over the water-soaked floor.

Hot tears joined the vase water on the wooden floor as she vanished the glass and flowers,This was not how she imagined her relationship with Theo. This was not how she imagined her life at all. Sniffing and pushing her tears back, she stood. She had to pull herself together.

Her footsteps echoing through her empty home, Hermione made her way to her writing desk in a heartbroken haze. She pulled out a quill and dipped it in her pot of ink before scratching a short message on a small sheet of parchment.

_I’d love to go to the wedding with you. Meet you there before the ceremony?_

_Love from, Hermione_

Hermione called her owl over to her desk. She attached the rolled up bit of parchment to her leg and watched as the bird carried her message away. As the owl grew smaller and smaller against the grey sky, she couldn’t help but feel that a bit of her cracked heart was traveling along with it.

~*~*~*~

The wedding was set to be a typical Burrow wedding: held in a tent, overrun with redheads, and full of emotion. The Weasleys had clearly placed warming charms surrounding and all throughout the tent. Hermione’s urge to shiver disappeared immediately upon stepping through the Burrow’s wards.

“Ah, Hermione!” called Arthur jovially from the mouth of the tent. “So glad you could make it.” He leaned down and gave her a fatherly hug. As he pulled away, he looked to her left and then her right. “Eh? But where is your date, Hermione? Didn’t you say you were bringing someone?”

“Hi, Hermione!” Hermione turned to see the very man she had been looking for.

“Neville, hi,” she said, a slow grin blooming on her face.

“Ah, Neville Longbottom.” Arthur Weasley stuck out his hand toward Neville, who took it readily. “Good to see you as always, son.” He glanced down at his watch as he shook Neville’s hand and jumped. “Merlin’s beard, Molly’ll have my head if I don’t get in there.”

With a short nod, Arthur disappeared promptly into the tent, leaving Hermione and Neville chuckling behind him.

“Nothing like a Weasley wedding, eh?” Neville joked, offering Hermione his arm.

“No, there really isn’t.” She accepted the arm and the both of them stepped forward into the tent.

Molly had really outdone herself with this one. Pumpkins lined the aisle, which was strewn with autumnal leaves in all shades of auburn and gold. Above the seats, hundreds of fairies floated about, illuminating the tent in an ethereal glow. Hermione thought they looked rather like stars, and she couldn’t help but stare for a minute.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Neville move, and assumed his eyes were towards the beautiful ceiling as well, admiring the false sky.

When she turned to suggest they find their seats, she found that Neville wasn’t staring at the fairies, but rather, at her.

“What?” Hermione felt a blush rise in her cheeks as tilted her head. “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” said Neville, his kind eyes dancing. “You’re lovely, Hermione.”

For a brief, singular moment, she forgot all about Theo. It was easy to get lost in Neville’s eyes. Copper in colour, their warmth invited Hermione to feel at ease. They crinkled at the edges when he smiled. And while Hermione couldn’t see the stars in their depths, she could see affection and kindness. Neville had grown up well. His form was entirely masculine, hard and angular, but his boyish charm somehow remained.

If she hadn’t already been with Theo, she’d have easily considered Neville.

But no. Her thoughts were straying into dangerous territory. She couldn’t allow herself to go there—to think those things. She was dating Theo. Neville was just her—well, her date. Platonically speaking, of course.

“Come on,” she said quietly. “Let’s find our seats.”

Hermione was sure she had never smiled so much at a wedding. Her cheekbones hurt from all the laughter. George had elected to write his own vows, and ended up comparing all of Angelina’s traits to various Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products.

“I feel like I’ve walked into one of my patented day-dream charms whenever you’re around. I particularly love a certain part of you that is as big as the results of a tonne-tongue toffee,” he spouted poetically with a grand flourish in front of the whole audience.

“George!” his mother had screeched, her face turning beet red. Everyone else, including Hermione, Neville, and Angelina, herself, were howling with laughter. Tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes by the time George folded his notes and pocketed them. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so much.

It felt nice to be out with someone, to laugh by his side without the constant paranoia or threat of saying something wrong—or worse, being found out. If being with Theo was like jumping into the deep end of a swimming pool, then sitting by Neville’s side felt more like easing into a hot tub on a cold night. It felt like relief—like she could finally breathe. Hermione’s muscles relaxed, and she found herself leaning into Neville’s side as rings were exchanged.

Theo may have been beautiful and passionate and her equal on so many levels. But Neville felt like home.

The realization hit her as George and Angelina recessed up the aisle to thunderous applause. She froze, her breath caught in her throat as she couldn’t quite bring her hands together.

“Are you all right?” Neville whispered in her ear as the applause continued, concern evident in his tone.

Hermione shook herself mentally. Now wasn’t the time to bring up her relationship troubles. Especially about a relationship no one knew about.

“Yeah,” she said through a tight-lipped smile. “I’m good.” The lie slipped out easily enough, and Neville seemed to believe it. He offered up his arm again.

“You ready for the reception? I should warn you now, I’m a shite dancer.”

“Better a shite dancer than not willing to dance at all.” The words slipped out of her before she could curb them.

She was about to backtrack and correct herself when Neville chuckled. “I’d be a pretty damn foolish wizard if I refused to dance with a beautiful witch like you.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what to say, so she grabbed a glass of champagne from a standing table and took a long sip.

Overall, the reception was lovely. She and Neville sat at the same table as many of their same-year Gryffindor friends. Everyone laughed as they recalled the various pranks the Weasley twins had pulled during their adolescent years. And when the dancing started, she and Neville headed straight for the dance floor.

Neither of them was a particularly good dancer, but they felt out the rhythm together, grinning from ear to ear and only occasionally stepping on each other’s toes. It was everything she had hoped the night would be—everything she had hoped to share with Theo.

A brief chill washed over her at the thought of her boyfriend, who was probably brooding in bed alone at this very moment. This is what she wanted with him. She wanted laughter. She wanted normalcy. She wanted togetherness.

Theo couldn’t give her any of that. It might take years for them to hold hands in public, if ever. And after tonight, she wasn’t sure she could give up this comfortable feeling blooming in her chest—this feeling that she was truly surrounded by those who loved her most. And as much as she loved Theo, being surrounded by loved ones, celebrating, enjoying the moment was not something she was willing to part with.

The next time Neville grinned at her as they pranced around the dance floor, Hermione felt her stomach swoop as though she had missed the last step. And as much as she wanted to stop herself from feeling this way about someone who wasn’t Theo, she relished the feeling of Neville’s calloused hand on her waist as they danced.

When she and Neville emerged from the sweltering tent into the chilly autumn night sometime around midnight, he wrapped his steady arm around her shoulders. Hermione leaned into his touch. Neville felt strong. He felt safe.

“Wow. Look at all the stars.” Neville squeezed her shoulder and pointed up with his free hand. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Hermione looked up. Pricks of light stretched as far as the eye could see, dotting the blackness with bits of hope. Just like she saw at work every day. Just like she had seen the night Theo refused to acknowledge his importance in the universe—his importance to her.

“It is,” she managed. “Very beautiful.”

“You know,” Neville said, his thumb running gently along her shoulder, “My gran always said that our fates are written in the stars. She said that it’s up to us to figure out what that fate is, but in the end, we’ll look up and feel deep down whether something is meant to be.”

Though Neville wasn’t looking at her, Hermione got the distinct impression that he wasn’t merely talking about something abstract. His thumb had stopped by now. She could see his chest expanding determinedly.

Hermione wasn’t sure if she wanted Neville to keep talking or not. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear what he was about to say. As he opened his mouth again, her own went dry.

“What do you feel when you look up there, Hermione?”

“M—me? I feel—”

She paused. What did she feel right here in this moment? Worry? Relief? It all seemed so jumbled in her head. Her, Theo, the stars… they were all so inextricably interconnected at this point that could hardly look up at the night sky without thinking of Theo and all his complexities. But that wasn’t exactly an answer she could give Neville. She exhaled, trying to gather her thoughts.

Her eyes swept across the constellations, searching for something unseen.

“I feel…”

She blinked, letting the answer fall from her lips, as though it had been on the tip of her tongue all along.

“I feel at home. My dad used to take me stargazing, you know. I think of him whenever I see the stars. I think of him and I feel… safe.”

Neville’s hand drifted from her shoulder and settled between them. He reached for her hand, his fingertips grazing her own before she opened her palm. They laced their fingers together as they stood, looking up. How long they stood like that, Hermione wasn’t sure.

Other party guests passed by them as they gazed at the stars, some bidding them goodnight, others stumbling past them in a half-drunken rush toward the Apparation point. To be standing out in the open, holding hands with Neville as they looked at the stars, it filled Hermione with a kind of wholeness that she had forgotten.

When Neville leaned down to kiss her goodnight, she didn’t stop him. She didn’t think of Theo, the stars, or anything else except the sweet softness of his lips.

Hermione landed on her front stoop a few minutes later, high-heel shoes in hand, a giddy smile dancing on her lips. She had kissed Neville. Her first friend at Hogwarts, the little clumsy boy who had somehow grown into the kind of man who could tell her confidently that she was lovely.

Pushing her front door open, she drew back in surprise to find Theo sitting in an armchair by a blazing fire. He held a book on his lap, but looked up when Hermione stepped inside.

Somehow he knew, though she wasn’t sure how.

“How was the wedding?” he asked plainly, his face giving away no trace of emotion. But Hermione saw his eyes. She saw the way they dilated as he drank her in, first her blue robes, and then her slightly smudged lip gloss.

“It was lovely,” she answered, setting her clutch on the table by her front door. “George made a really funny speech.”

Theo nodded. “And did you have a date?”

“I did.” Hermione saw no point in lying. “I went with Neville. We danced most of the night.”

Hermione thought she saw Theo bristle from across the room, his long fingers flexing around the book in his lap. “Did you do more than dance?” he asked lightly, looking determinedly downward.

“We looked at the stars,” she said truthfully.

Theo closed his book gently and set it beside him. He stood, taking tentative steps toward Hermione.

“And what did Longbottom see in the stars?” Theo asked, his pace quickening with each word he spoke until they were face-to-face, only inches apart. Hermione could smell his familiar spicy scent, could see the same vastness reflected in his dark eyes. “What did he see, star girl?”

Theo’s breath mingled with hers, and she found herself longing desperately to hear him call her by that name. She wanted to lose herself in hours of talking and hours of passion. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. She wanted to be happy again. Happy with Theo.

There was a desperation in the way they claimed one another that night. With every snap of Theo’s hips, Hermione couldn’t help but feel like they were trying hard to cling onto something that simply couldn’t be. Theo’s fingers dug into the skin of her thighs as he trailed kisses across the galaxy of scars scattered across her body. He worshipped every inch of her body with a kind of reverence made her want to cry.

He was saying goodbye.

~*~*~*~

Theo was gone by the time she woke. Hermione groped the other side of the bed, but found the rumpled sheets to be cold and empty. The weight of heartbreak and grief mingled inexplicably with relief as she pulled herself to sitting position.

It was still dark out, and the vestiges of night hung in the sky as Hermione stepped onto her balcony alone. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen the stars alone. It felt empty. _Wrong._ Her heart ached, knowing this was how Theo felt so much of the time.

But she couldn’t fix Theo.

She knew that now. Her pity-turned-infatuation had morphed into something akin to love. Had it actually been love? Buried under secrets and lies, could she have actually loved Theo? Or had it all been a sort of trick her brain had played on her?

Hermione gazed out from her balcony, searching for the limited heavenly bodies she knew would be visible at this early hour. Stars danced across her vision. Planets sparkled against the inky blackness. It was just as beautiful and meaningful as it always was.

_"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,_   
_But in ourselves, that we are underlings."_

The words her dad once spoke to her crossed her mind as the finality of it all sank in.

She and Theo were not written in the stars. For all she knew, no one was. They were all just mucking about in this world, trying to find a bit of happiness before the universe swallowed them up and they became nothing but stardust. It was up to them to find meaning in their lives—to see the stars within themselves.

Hermione was sure that Theo wouldn’t like that explanation. He would probably scoff at her and spend the rest of the day brooding. The thought brought a small smile to the corner of her lips. Theo would always be Theo, and she took comfort in that. He would always be the man who helped her to feel big in a mysterious universe, even if he couldn’t see the same in himself.

Their secret relationship had crumbled before her eyes, yet Hermione didn’t feel sad or lonely. She didn’t feel relief either. She simply felt… acceptance.

Allowing the feeling to wash over her, Hermione curled onto the chair that sat on her balcony. Night would soon be over, and the stars would fade into the pale blues and pinks that would soon paint the horizon.

Dawn would bring a new day, which would only lead to another night sky to gaze upon. On and on her life would go. And though she knew she couldn’t always see them, Hermione took comfort knowing that the stars would always be there, high above her head, just waiting to be explored.

**Author's Note:**

> We're all made of stars. 
> 
> For Ravens Light.
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ biscuitsforpotter


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